


i'll put a pebble in my shoe

by lutzaussi



Series: where are you going? [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Identity Reveal, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 01:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12694365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lutzaussi/pseuds/lutzaussi
Summary: Iruka returns; Iruka remembers.





	i'll put a pebble in my shoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unseelieknight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unseelieknight/gifts).



The blue of the sky seemed boundless from where Iruka was, lying in the middle of the meadow that the sheep and goats were grazing. His eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled deeply.

Late summer was warm, but not hot. He relished in the warmth, the sun playing over his face, the smell of the grasses and flowers. But duty called, so he sat back up, counted his charges.  Twelve in all, none of them missing or visibly hurt.

The fall rut was nearly upon the animals, but they showed no outward signs of it. The goats would need a shearing before that. Iruka hefted himself up, went to check over the goats.

-

Sumire was in the garden when they returned, despite the late hour. Iruka put the livestock back in their barn and attached pen, went to help her dig up the potatoes.

Iruka made up a pan of curry while Sumire stored the potatoes; they worked around each other easily and effortlessly. Sumire started rice once she was done with the tubers, and within half an hour they had a hearty meal ready.

They ate in relative silence, except for occasional comments about the day. Iruka cleaned up after the meal, headed back out to make sure that the animals were okay for the night.

They’d been having problems with foxes or coyotes in the area, mostly those catching rabbits and other rodents near the house. Iruka wanted to make sure that they couldn’t get into the barn, particularly since the does and ewes would be kidding and lambing in the spring when food would be scarce. He checked around the base of the barn, the walls and doors, and once he was satisfied with what he had seen he returned to the house.

-

Sumire made them tea, and they sat on the front porch watching the fireflies in the woods. Iruka’s back was sore from all the crouching to pick the potatoes after inspecting the animals’ feet for tacks and their coats for burrs. Sumire wasn’t much better after a day spent harvesting the last of the summer vegetables and fruits. She headed to bed early, leaving Iruka out on the porch to consider the fireflies and the crickets.

He was stretching out his back when the insects went quiet, and the only sound he could hear were deliberately loud footsteps heading down the old animal track.

Iruka sat on the porch, staying still until a man with a mop of silvery-white hair appeared out of the trees.

“Sensei,” the man said, and Iruka sighed. Kakashi only ever seemed to visit the house when he was injured or he was heading back to Konoha, which typically fell in the middle of the night. Thankfully, it seemed to be the former.

“Hello, Kakashi,” Iruka said, cleaning up the tea tray and taking it back into the house. Kakashi followed, taking off his sandals in the entrance as if he actually lived with them.

“How are your children?” Kakashi asked, padding into the house silently. Iruka was thankful Sumire had chosen to sleep in her bedroom, instead of their main living area.

“Fine,” Iruka said, knowing that Kakashi was just being annoying and asking about the livestock. He seemed rather invested in the livestock. “Why do you call me sensei?” he asked, brows wrinkling as he looked at the other man. 

“Because those sheep and goats follow after you like you’re their teacher,” Kakashi shrugged, then fixed his visible eye on Iruka’s face, “and you’ve refused to give me your name,  _ sensei _ , so I have to make do.”

Iruka rolled his eyes, but he did smile a little.

-

They ended up talking late into the night, which was usual whenever Kakashi stopped by. It was very much more than Iruka ever bargained, but he enjoyed seeing Kakashi, for some reason. The man didn’t talk much about Konoha, but when he did it was general things, how the city looked that particular season, events that were happening, weird competitions between him and his friend Gai.

Iruka never really had much to contribute, either. Kakashi would inevitably always prod him for information about the animals, how the garden was coming on, and how Sumire was doing, but for the most part they spent their time together in comfortable silence. Iruka took that particular opportunity to continue what seemed like a never-ending process: preparing the wool they had sheared in spring for selling.

All of it was teased, but he was only about halfway through carding it, and Kakashi watched him with an almost peculiar fascination until it was much later that Iruka intended to go to bed.

Kakashi never stayed, not unless he was close to dying or had lost a lot of blood. Iruka saw him to the door and they exchanged their goodbyes--including one last  _ sensei _ from Kakashi--before he went to put away the hand carders.

He felt overly warm as he pulled out his futon and prepared for bed. He didn’t linger on why that might be.

-

Three weeks later, before the second weekend of October, the wool was all carded and delicately turned into rolags. Iruka packed it in bags under Sumire’s direction, and they packed the bags in turn into a covered pull-along wagon.

That done, Sumire closed up the house, and they headed down the gentle slope of the mountain to their nearest neighbors, where she handed a massive bag of vegetables as payment for them watching over the livestock.

Then they headed on their way, north, to Konohagakure.

-

The trip took four days, which was a good pace considering the load they were hauling. It was early when they arrived outside of the village, mixing in with other travelers and peddlers on their way. Iruka didn’t look away from Sumire’s back as they entered the large southern entrance. He wanted to look around, to stare at everything he had left behind, everything that had changed. He didn’t give in to that want, instead focusing on why they were in Konoha.

The market was bustling, sprawling. Banners and flags announced food and trinket-sellers; pens held examples of livestock to be sold. He was grateful that Sumire was with him, because Iruka had no idea where to go. She knew where they would sell the wool, though, and slipped through the massed people with a practiced ease.

-

The weavers mostly had fabrics for sale, exquisitely done silks and cottons in a variety of embroideries and dyes. Iruka could almost feel overwhelmed by it, by everything.

Sumire led them to a smaller shop tucked behind the clustered stands; in it were weavers studiously working, and from the rear of the shop Iruka could smell the telltale smells of dyes. A woman walked to meet them, gesturing for the weavers to continue with their work.

“Ah, Sumire-san, it’s been some time,” the woman said, bowing.

“Unfortunately,” Sumire said, bowing in return. “Kazue-san, this is Iruka-san. He raises the sheep and goats.”

Iruka bowed, as it seemed to be expected, and closely listened to Sumire and Kazue’s conversation, even as he drank in the sights of the shop.

“Last year was not good for the animals--too warm and humid. We had to throw much of the wool away, though we were able to save some of it,” Sumire said, beginning to pass over the batts of wool she held as examples. “We only brought the new with us.”

“Mm,” Kazue held the batts up, called for someone named Saki. An older woman came out from the back, pulling out a pair of spectacles from her kimono sleeve as she took the batt from Kazue. “It looks good in my eyes, but I trust Saki more,” the woman said, somewhat apologetically.

“By all means,” Sumire said, and they waited for a few moments while Saki pulled and pinched the wool, held it up so she could watch light pass through it.

“The fine quality we expect from your animals, Sumire,” Saki finally said, handing the batt back to Kazue.

That led to haggling, and once the wool was sold--all of it, all they had brought with them--Sumire took Iruka out to find an inn, and then some food.

-

Iruka forgot how much he missed ramen, living with Sumire in the middle of the woods. They ate at Ichiraku, several bowls each to make up for all of the walking and the carrying of the wool. Once his eyes pricked with tears, as he remembered how Ichiraku had been his mother’s favorite place to eat, but he waved it off as the soup being hot.

They then went to wander, and Iruka felt like an unmoored ship. Sumire had winter on the brain, and insisted on spending a trifling amount of their money on a wide variety of clothes and shoes. Iruka was very thankful; his boots were beginning to wear down and he didn’t have many clothes. Well, clothes that fit; he’d had one last surprise growth spurt a year and a half before, despite being nearly twenty, so most of his shirts were too tight.

-

He left Sumire as she haggled over new pots and pans, aimlessly wandered through the market. It was seasonal, only happening once a year, and though Iruka hurt to be back in Konoha he was glad that he could come with Sumire to the market. Maybe when she passed on he would continue to do it, taking care of the sheep and goats and selling their wool.

The thought was one he had before, considering Sumire’s age and her eventual death, but it still saddened him.

As if unconsciously, he turned from the market, headed down alleys and sidestreets that he didn’t remember but his mind somehow still new.

Then he found himself standing in the older area of town, where the houses were half-abandoned, fully-dilapidated. His feet stopped when he reached a familiar fence, and he looked up to see his former home, abandoned, just as he had left it.

-

Despite how bad it looked on the outside, the inside of the house had been virtually untouched other than a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. He let himself in through one of the windows, knowing that it would be unlocked as he left it, trying his best not to disturb the dust on the sill and floor.

That didn’t stop dust from swirling; he held a sleeved hand over his mouth and nose as he sneezed once, twice, and a third time. His eyes watered slightly, and he stayed still until the dust died down.

Moving carefully after that, he moved out of the sunlight and let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the house. Some things had been taken, he could tell; likely the valuable things. But the couch still stood in the middle of the room, the old overstuffed chair that he used to sit on with his mom, listening to her read stories before bed.

He felt like his throat was going to snap; he stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, waiting for the tears to die away, before moving on into the house.

-

There were still shoes in the entryway, empty pots on the stove, signs of stopped life everywhere. Iruka’s breathing began to pick up as he moved from the ground floor up to the first, where the bedrooms had been.

It was too much--

It had been a mistake--

He opened the door to what had been his parents room, and stepped in.

-

The grief that overwhelmed him was familiar, but not as intense as it had been at one time. He had spent years processing it already. It hurt to come back to that; he was not prepared. He didn’t know if he would ever be prepared.

The bed wasn’t made; it was a habit of his mom’s, to never make the bed if she was the last one to get up. There were their things; clothes, papers. Iruka ran his hands over the desk, the low board at the end of the bed. Rough sobs choked out of his mouth, and he sat down on the bed, pressed a hand into his eyes.

Wind whistled through one of the cracked window panes, rustling his hair and causing wood to clack against wood. He looked up, through his fingers.

Pictures took up the entire wall in front of him, large and small alike, pictures of his family. There were a lot of him, and that was enough to make him smile, even if it was very wet. Iruka found himself content, content to look at the pictures, and remember.

-

Sound snapped him out of his remembrance. Creaking; creaking that couldn’t be explained by the wind, which had died down. Could Sumire have followed him? She did know where the house was, he’d told her. But she had been complaining about her back, and if her back was hurting her she wouldn’t have followed him.

He stood, considered going out the window as the creaking continued up the stairs, paused at the other room--his old bedroom--and continued to the room he stood in.

Iruka stood frozen as the door creaked open. The glint of a knife was the first he saw, but the knife quickly lowered and a disbelieving voice said, “Sensei?”

Kakashi.  _ Why _ did it have to be Kakashi, of all people?

“What are you doing here?” Kakashi asked. He stepped forward, into the room. Iruka stepped back, bumping against the bed.

There was a frown on Kakashi’s face, a frown that Iruka could see despite the mask and the forehead protector. “Sensei?” Kakashi pleaded, actually pleaded, and it struck Iruka that the man mostly seemed concerned.

“It doesn’t matter,” Iruka stammered out, but he found himself glancing at the photographs hanging on the wall, photographs of himself and his parents.

Kakashi glanced over as well, and even in profile Iruka could see his eye widen. He looked back at Iruka, at the high ponytail he’d messily pulled his hair into, the deep brown of his eyes, the scar across his nose.

“You’re Umino Iruka,” Kakashi said, sounding unsure.

But Iruka couldn’t reply; he suddenly found it hard to breathe, hard to think, and soon it was incredibly hard to stand, to stay aware. Why had it been Kakashi?


End file.
